You Never Need Nobody
by MsLane
Summary: 'You aren't one to really sit and reminisce, not normally. But as you continue looking at her lying there, you acknowledge that there isn't anything normal about any of this. You watch as Quinn's body goes through the motions; watch as her chest rises and falls rhythmically, knowing she isn't doing it herself.' Santana's POV post OMW, hints of Faberry


_These are just flames,_

_Burning in your fireplace._

_I hear your voice and it seems_

_As if it was all a dream,_

_I wish it was a dream. – Another Story, _**The Head and the Heart**

* * *

You aren't one to really sit and reminisce, not normally. But as you continue looking at her lying there, you acknowledge that there isn't anything normal about _any_ of this.

You watch as Quinn's body goes through the motions; watch as her chest rises and falls rhythmically, knowing she isn't doing it herself. The machine hooked up to her is the only thing keeping her lungs filling and the releasing air, and you aren't delusional enough not to know this.

You briefly look away, and it honestly could have been the first time you do this since you first laid eyes on her.

Brittany is sleeping at the end of the small cot a nurse was nice enough to bring in, and if you were anyone else, you would have thanked her. But you aren't. You're still the same bitch and you leave it to sweet Brittany to take care of thanking the nurse, while you continue trailing your eyes all over Quinn's features, trying to process how someone _so_ strong can be put through so much and still have more flung at her.

You don't cry. You won't allow yourself to, not yet. Not when she still needs you to be strong.

Your eyes find their way home again, following the smooth line of her nose, strong jaw, partially hidden behind gauze and tape, trying to heal the cuts and scrapes found on her skin.

Your hand _aches_, wanting to reach out and just touch her. Anywhere. If only to simply reassure yourself, to solidify the notion that she's still here. She's _real_, all of her, skin and bones. Broken, bruised, sprained, and battered, but all here and she's still beautiful. You grab onto your hands, and force them onto your lap, to stop yourself from acting on impulse. A part of you thinks you should give in.

Because that's how you've always been when you're together.

Tactile.

No matter what anyone else thought of your friendship; whether they believed it was born out of convenience or a lust for popularity, you knew the truth and _fuck_ the others, because none of them matter. No one else matters except the two blondes before you, and _you_, and you don't care if people scoff and roll their eyes when you act like a bitch to her, because _she_ knows what you're really saying and _that_ makes all the difference.

You weren't always this bitter and scathing.

It was the environment, it was necessity.

Because you learned early that Quinn is strong, but not when it came to herself, not when it came to standing up for herself when it mattered most of all, and so you were strong enough for the both of you in that sense.

Her father was always a dick, but especially the years leading up to high school, or perhaps it was only then that you started to really notice, and it was then that you stepped up, completely and wholly, into her life.

You held her in the quiet of her room after the first time he really lost it around her. She called you and you came running, and you wanted to give him a piece of your mind when she whispered against your neck the things he had yelled and spat and hatefully spewed her way.

You wanted to, but you wanted to stay with her even more. So you did.

She succumbed to exhaustion and you stayed awake. Vigilant and unforgiving. Arms wrapped around her body cocooning her safely.

You blink as the memory fades and you're once again in her hospital room.

Your body is yearning to hold her. As if that in itself will keep her safe once again.

You _know_. You know the idea is ridiculous; because there is no way you can do anything for her now by holding her. Not like with all the other things she's been through before.

But your mind still nags you to be there for her, and your arms need to hold her, because you know she's hurting.

You shake your head at yourself because you _are_ here for her. Just as always.

More so now because it isn't in the quiet moments in her bedroom with only the three of you. Nor is it just the two of you. You're not putting up pretenses. You don't care if everyone realizes all at once how real your friendship is, because, right now, there's no way you're going anywhere that she isn't.

All of a sudden you're thinking about baby gate and you fight back the tears that decide to make themselves known.

You became rather adept at climbing through her bedroom window in the middle of the night, on days she really needed you, and on days she just didn't want to be alone.

Because you know she's always felt alone.

And those days come by more often than not.

And with Quinn there's always a difference between the two.

When she told you she was pregnant, your breath had left your body so suddenly it left you gasping for air. You pulled her fully into you, and you held her close. You refused to promise anything you weren't sure you could keep.

So you promised her you'll be there, always.

You promised you'd love her, no matter what she decided. You promised that nothing she decided would make you change the way you think of her.

And she cried as you held her and promised these things and she apologized and you both knew it's because of something miniscule compared to what she just shared with you, but you accepted her apology and told her again that this changed nothing between the both of you.

Once she settled down, and her breathing wasn't as erratic, you told her that yes it was stupid to believe _Puck_, but you also told her that he should have thought more with his mind rather than with his head, and that it wasn't all her fault. Quinn's tears had quietly trailed down her cheek and onto your neck and she murmured a sorry, and you knew she's sorry she didn't call you instead of Puck.

She told you she didn't want you to have to deal with her when she knew you were with Brittany, and you had wanted to cry in frustration because you _and_ Britt would have come to her immediately.

Quinn apologized that night more times than was probably necessary, but you let her as you kept holding her tight, and once again stood guard over her once she fell asleep.

It wasn't the smartest thing. Letting her lie to Finn. But you understood, kind of, her need for her boyfriend to step up, because Puck plays around, then and now and probably for always.

The thought that Finn could mess shit up for her crossed your mind, but you figured you could handle it and do some damage control if he ever thought about singing about her pregnancy in Glee…you were wrong to think that, of course, because he fucked up big time and did something that never crossed your mind.

He told her parents at dinner. He _sang_ about it at dinner.

And that came out of fucking nowhere and you wanted to kill him for hurting her.

You remember the way Quinn's voice was cracking and how ragged her breath had been when she called you from her room as she was packing.

You can't recall ever running as hard or as fast in your life. You had run past her father, who had been downing whiskey like it held the answers to life, and he didn't even bat an eyelash as the microwave timer continued to countdown the seconds.

You burst through her bedroom door and she had been full on crying then, in the middle of her room, surrounded by her whole world, and you stepped into the middle of the fray, kissed her forehead before you quickly packed the essentials.

Once again, you promised her only what you knew you could keep as you continued to swiftly throw her chargers into her bag along with her school books.

You promised you'd come back for the rest of everything she wants later that night, and just as you had lifted the bags, you both heard the timer go off and you quickly helped her up and you kept your arm wrapped around her waist, as you walked out the door and down the stairs.

You told her to keep her head up and she had valiantly tried but faltered as they passed her father, who had been sending her scathing looks, and evil words, and she _faltered_, but she lifted her chin and you wanted to kiss her you were so proud of her.

She told you then that Finn was going to take her in, once you walked out of the front door, and it was your turn to falter. But you nodded and let her know that you were going to keep your promises, and before she got into his car, she stumbled into your arms for a quick hug.

You were furious, not at her, at the oaf that called himself Quinn's boyfriend, so you had kept your mouth shut as you watched her step into his car.

You snuck back into Quinn's room at half past two in the morning that night to pack up everything that was important.

She was stubborn and refused to accept your offer of giving her free reign on your house and her second home. Once again, she chose instead to go to Puck once everything got out that he was the father, and not Finn.

You didn't stop climbing in through windows to see her when she needed you.

No matter where she went.

Even if it hurt that she'd rather be someplace that felt less like home than yours.

She's strong and she got through it and you felt _so _proud of her and you told her every chance you got and you knew it meant the world to her, because she told you one day that you're like the Dead Sea.

And you gave her that smile and let it roll off your back the first time she'd said it, because a part of you thought she was poking fun at your inability to easily let things grow and strive, but you realized she meant you'd never, _ever_, let her sink, and the moment you realized this, you rushed over to her and a part of you fell in love with her then and there.

Not quite romantically, but in the sense that she's your soul mate, and you're in love with Brittany in the sense that she's your other half, and you need _both_ of them, wholly, equally, and entirely.

She had smiled at you the night you figured it out, the second you fell through the window unceremoniously.

And once you had gotten up she asked if you finally understood and you crawled over her in the bed and she held you tight as you allowed yourself to silently weep for this beauty that held you.

The heart monitor's quickened beeping is the only thing that brings you back to the present.

Her face is contorting around all the tubes and pipes and you can tell she's hurting.

Your feet take you over to the door and you call the nurse and she's quick to check over her vitals before gently easing another dose of morphine into Quinn and your eyes watch as her face nearly immediately eases up, her heart going back to normal sinus rhythm.

The nurse pats your hand and she walks out, and it's then you notice the death grip you have on the bedrail.

You mentally go over all of her injuries, and you allow your eyes to sweep across all of the machines, checking that everything is normal, or as normal as they can be.

She's yet to wake up from the three surgeries she's had, and the doctors assure you, assures everyone, that it's absolutely okay, because she desperately needs this. And you wish you were less selfish because all you wish is for her to wake up.

You wish this less once the doctors explain how much pain Quinn can be in when she does wake up.

It reassures you that they all say _when_ and not _if_, and you thank God for small favors.

You don't think you would have noticed your eyes starting to let the tears fall if Brittany hadn't somehow known and woken up to wrap her arms around you and wipe them away.

She's gentle as she kisses your eyelids once they shut on their own, and you love her so much you're about to burst, because this isn't fair. You're made selfish, and you need both of them, and God knows, and Brittany lays you down and holds you and you give into sleep but only because Britt promises to wake you up in a couple of hours; and you trust her with everything because you learned about keeping promises from her.

'_I been worrying that my time is a little unclear. I been worryin that I'm losing the one's I hold dear.' _

It isn't the first time you think in song lyrics, and you blame glee, but really it started long before you joined the club. And you think that it probably started when you met Quinn...she has that way about her.

Britt wakes you up exactly two hours later and you want to smile but the thought leaves you quickly because a part of you isn't okay and how can you even flirt with the idea of smiling.

Brittany knows though because she buries her nose into the crook of your neck and she takes a deep breath and holds it in until she can feel your heart beat pulsing through an artery against her lips, and she kisses you there in time with your pulse.

'_Green eyes and a heart of gold, all the money's gone and the house is cold'_

You give in and finally touch her after coming back from your shower and a change of clothes.

It isn't something you planned on doing, it just happened. You walked into the room and see Brittany holding Rachel's hand and you just reach out and suddenly you're touching Quinn.

And she's real, and solid, and _warm_, and you're choking back a sob that is tearing away at you, so instead you tear yourself away from her and run out of the room, straight into Frannie.

And it only makes you want to cry harder because she looks _so much_ like Quinn.

She holds fast and you grip her tightly and she smells almost like her and you pull her tighter against you because she's in need of this lifeline just as much as you are.

It takes some time, but eventually you both walk into Quinn's room, and Frannie is walking towards her, one hand covering her mouth, in a feeble attempt to keep her truth of her present self a secret. Her other hand hovers over Quinn's and it's you that gently presses it down, and it's you that tells her not to worry, that she's warm and Frannie gasps as her lungs fight her for breath and she's crying because this- they aren't meant to be here. Quinn's too young, too strong to be here.

You follow Brittany and Rachel out of the room and you watch as they take care of each other. Normally you would smile, because you get it.

Rachel is Brittany's Quinn, but you can't now, even though you want to.

They hold hands easily, and Brittany rests her head against yours, making sure you're staying afloat too because even if you're the protector, you need your amore near to rejuvenate.

Frannie calls you all back in after nearly an hour and it's quiet but somehow you all make it through introductions and filling in, and you're not nearly as surprised when she holds it together because she's Quinn's older sister, and of course that's where she got it from.

'_Haven't you noticed me drifting? Oh, let me tell you, I am'_

You're there when Quinn first wakes up two _long_ days after her surgeries and you take _one_ look at her hazy, blown eyes and you race for the doctors, because you're first and foremost her protector and you'll be damned if you let slip your duty now that she's waking up.

They all come by and go over every inch of her, from head to toe, checking her bandages and vitals and she's not completely aware of everything but she's awake and alive and she's reaching out for your hand and you nearly collapse as you move towards her-always towards her- and wrap her hand in both of yours and you're lifting her hand to your lips and you kiss every knuckle and you once again think to yourself 'to hell with pretending.'

She closes her eyes then and the doctors tell you that this is normal and you believe for a little while that it is.

'_If you're loved by someone you're never rejected, decide what to be and go be it.'_

The next time Quinn wakes up, you're prepared for it. Only because you haven't taken your eyes away from her, so you notice the way her eyes flutter, and her nose scrunches up and you're quick to rest your hand against the side of her head, gently rubbing your thumb across her temple.

She still needs help breathing, but the doctors assure you that it's only until they're one hundred percent everything with her lungs are okay.

You want to yell at them for not knowing, but you don't because she's alive, and her eyes are _so_ green.

She wiggles her fingers at you as a hello, and that's what it takes.

You're crying like the very definition of the word, and she's there and pulling you as close as she can and you let her; because of _course_ she would wiggle her fucking fingers at you.

'_And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones_'

It takes another day before the doctors have to remove the chest tube because she's started breathing on her own and you laugh as you stroke her hand. Fucking _duh_, it's Quinn Fabray, and no one is going to slow her down when she wants to do something.

You tell her as such and she chuckles and just looks at you with this look and all you want to do is live in that look, in her eyes, even if they're still too glossy for your liking.

Brittany's resting on her right side, head gently on her shoulder, and arm threaded through her right and just leaving feather light kisses on her hand every once in a while.

And you catch the smile that lifts her lips. Each and every time.

You think about all the things you have been the past few days, and you're pretty sure you're going to think about these things again for a long time coming. Probably for forever.

Rachel comes by every day.

It's something you hadn't realized earlier. Her being there as long as you and Brittany have; and you're not worried about it because no one will hold that against you. Not even Rachel.

And you think Quinn really likes that she's around and that thought makes you want to smile because leave it to Quinn to fall for a tiny, somewhat angry, spitfire brunette, with a larger than life voice.

'_So I have gathered your cracks and replaced them with mine_'

It isn't easy when the doctors finally tell Quinn about her legs.

She accepts it, and that wasn't the hard part.

It was later on. In the dead of the night that was difficult.

Because she calls you, and you roll over in own bed for the first time in days, and before you even answer the phone, you're throwing on some shoes and grabbing your keys.

She tells you she needs you, and you knew you shouldn't have left like she told you to earlier, and you're telling her now that you're on your way.

And you want to shoot yourself because she chokes back a sob that you wish you hadn't caused. You apologize by telling her you'll be there soon, and that you love her dearly.

She doesn't tell you to hurry.

And you know more than anything that she's sending up prayers for you as you silently hang up.

You throw one up for _her_.

She's sitting up in bed when you climb in through yet another window; you're certain the hospital has some sort of policy when it comes to this but you don't really care and you don't have the time to talk to nurses. So you climb through the window, and you can tell she's still crying.

You tiptoe over and kick off your shoes and drag a chair over as quietly as you can so you don't wake up Mrs. Fabray or Frannie and you plop down and lean over as close as you can get.

Her eyes look like emeralds right now and you're just so glad you can still be here for her.

"I'm scared."

And you squeeze her hand in yours and nod because you can't imagine how scared she is.

She sniffs and tugs on your hand and you realize she's desperately trying to scoot over for you, so you're quick to help adjust her so she doesn't hurt herself more. You know better than to argue with her, so you climb right in and hold her against your body tightly.

"I'm not going anywhere Q. I _promise_. We're going to get through this querida, together."

Her lips tremble. You know they do, because she's having a pretty hard time breathing and she's trying to stop herself from crying.

You run your hand gently up and down her arm, "You can cry. God knows I did."

She hiccups and then she's silently breaking down beside you and you hold her through the worst and the least of it.

You whisper things that you hope help, because not one thing you ever say to her is a lie, not when you mean it. And you promise her again and again that you're not going anywhere. You promise her that she's strong, and you're going to be there to see her becoming even stronger than ever.

You promise to love her, always.

She cries herself to exhaustion and she nuzzles into you as she whispers a thank you against your neck. You kiss her forehead and tell her she's not as bright as you always that she was if she actually thought for a second you wouldn't be here for her.

She shakes her head but says nothing as she tries to basically mold herself into you, and you wish it was possible because you realize you're attempting the same.

You watch over her as she sleeps, and you know you'll continue doing so.

You know that Rachel will probably one day take some of the weight off of you, but until you help guide her in the hows, you're not going to be okay with letting her.

You roll your eyes at yourself. You're never going to be totally okay with letting Rachel take over, but you know she's going to, partially, and when the time comes, you know you'll be better at sharing. Because Quinn deserves what you have with Brittany…and you really think Rachel is going to be it for her.

You shake your head at yourself…the places your mind wanders in the middle of the night leave you wondering for your sanity.

You kiss Quinn's forehead again and when she breathes out contentedly against your neck, it's like you can finally, _fully, _breathe and start living again.

* * *

**This is a list of songs that Santana has thought of in the order in which she thinks them x**

**The Fear - Ben Howard**

**Green Eyes And A Heart Of Gold - The Lone Bellow**

**Falling - The Civil Wars**

**Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise - The Avett Brothers**

**Youth - Daughter**

**Look Out - James Vincent McMorrow**


End file.
